


Seventeen Oneshots+drabbles

by bingsoo



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: F/M, seventeen/oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bingsoo/pseuds/bingsoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>random ass fluff with random ass seventeen members. Woohoo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. index

 

_**prompts:** _

\--

// **s.coups:** wherein he can't handle his best friend wearing a risque costume at a Halloween party //

// **wonwoo:** wherein she notices that quiet boy who falls asleep on the bus everyday //

// **dk:** wherein it's new year's eve and he finds his drunk neighbor stumbling in his apartment //

\--


	2. of devils and angels // s.coups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> // prompt : wherein s.coups can’t handle his best friend wearing a risqué costume at a Halloween party. //

= sorry if it sucked guys I didn’t proofread lmao + it’s like 4AM and why the hell am I writing tbh =

\--

 

She adjusted the black straps on her shoulders, glancing at the passenger mirror to see if her midnight-colored wings flitted around her just right. Accompanied with her tight black dress, skyscraper heels, and the finishing touch of two polished crimson horns on the crown of her head - she looked ready to kill.

Ready to kill Soonyoung, that is. When her idiot of a friend offered to lend her a Halloween costume, she definitely did not expect to see arguably the tiniest outfit she had ever seen in her entire life. She simply looked at Soonyoung with a scandalized expression, silently asking "how the _fuck_ did you even get your hands on this?” To which he replied with a shrug, smirk, then a consequent snigger of _“Don’t ask.”_

 

Well, she thought, it was too late to turn back anyways. She knew Seungcheol would be absolutely devastated if she bailed on the party he’s been planning all week. It just so happened that she ended her shift from work and completely forgot about buying an actual costume - so asking Soonyoung, her co-worker and designated driver, to lend her something to wear seemed to be a good idea at the time.

It was a terrible idea. She had no idea where the hell Soonyoung got this skimpy outfit from, but she also knew that she had no right to complain. She’d pick a sleazy outfit any day if that meant she could avoid Seungcheol’s future whines and complaints about her _“being a bad friend”_ , and _“not loving me as much as I love you!!”_

So as she stood in the middle of a thrum of moving bodies and harsh bass of the dance floor, she was suddenly aware of how tiny her dress really was. She mentally cursed Soonyoung for ditching her, because each step she took meant the unfamiliar brush of her skin against a stranger’s sweaty body. One touch, however, surprised her with a gentle tug on her fingers. 

“Hey, you made it!” She was relieved to see her best friend, Seungcheol himself, gleaming down at her, dressed in a white button-up and jacket, blonde hair messily brushed back and slightly flattened down by a crisp white halo. He gently led her away from the crowd and towards the couches nearby, where it was slightly less rowdy (disregarding the couple making out in the back corner). He turned around and his large eyes nearly doubled in size when he caught a glimpse of what she was wearing.

His thoughts weren’t just thoughts for long. “What are you wearing?” he yelped, hands clutching at her shoulders to absorb her revealing outfit choice. _“What are you doing??”_

“Oh, you know. Casually being Satan,” she joked, gesturing towards the two glossy horns on her head.

He ignored her teasing and remained focused on her clothes. It was all just too much for his heart to take. 

Seungcheol assessed her a few more times, eyes roaming up and down until she was squirming underneath his scrutiny. "You’re not wearing this,“ he commanded, lips pursing into a hard line.

“That’s no fun.” Her eyes darted toward the halo resting on his hair once more, crinkling in happiness. "Aww, we dressed up as opposites too. Isn’t that cute?“

Seungcheol simply remained shocked, large-eyed, and mushy as fuck as she led him to the dance floor. He was still recovering from seeing her like that - you know, dressed illegally and all. Seeing her in that outfit was simply not healthy for him. His heart was pounding much harder than usual, blood pumping as rapidly as the bass of the beat around them when she turned around and begun to dance. He suppressed a gulp and protectively stepped closer, not wanting others' eyes to follow the languid sway of her hips to the rhythm.

She let out a surprised squeak when Seungcheol suddenly pulled her against his chest. "Are you okay? What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly, slightly turning towards where his chin was delicately set on the gap between her neck and shoulder. He stayed silent, simply moving his feet to the quiet thump of music, which by now had transitioned into a much slower, relaxing tempo.

Maybe it was her lack of proper clothing, or maybe even the indescribable atmosphere, that contributed to her hyperawareness of Seungcheol’s touches. She was usually used to his open display of affection - but maybe it was the sudden change of tempo, or even that attractive white button-up he was wearing - that immediately caused her to notice the warm gusts of breath on her neck, the hands roaming around her waist. Maybe it her own shortness of breath - or the lean muscle behind her - that made her heart feel as if it suddenly fell into cardiac arrest.

She felt him pull away, and quicky turned around to whine about coldness of the air around her until she felt a soft material being draped over her shoulders. She blinked, finally registering the warm, white material of Seungcheol’s jacket and the fresh, clean scent that she identified distinctly as his. “Wha-” She squeaked once again as she was pulled towards her best friend’s chest once more, head tucked snugly beside his neck.

“So,” he spoke slowly, deep voice lowering an octave as he tried to speak even softer. “Uh, I think some guys are… like, looking at you.”

She tilted her head back to look at him, eyes brimming with confusion. “What? Looking at me? Like, looking at me in a _bad_ way?”

Seungcheol glanced away, identifying some people who were most definitely checking her out. He pouted, pink lips jutting out as he looked at her once again and poked at her cheek. 

"Yeah," he coughed, scratching his chin and avoiding eye contact at any possible cost. She blinked in response, mouth opening and closing in silent surprise.

“Well," another cough, " _I_ think it’s in a bad way. So please... just... please keep my jacket on.”

His voice came out as a shy murmur and when he pouted even harder she felt as if she just died. “W-what would happen if I don’t?” she challenged.

At this, Seungcheol slightly pursed his lips, forced his erratic heatbeat to _please please please_ calm the fuck down - placed his hands over her jawline, then finally leaned forward and presumed to pepper sweet little Seungcheol-kisses over her forehead, cheeks, eyes - all the way up to the two pert crimson horns on her head.

She blinked in disbelief, suddenly feeling as if her face was burning in the depths of hell yet her soul had somehow ascended directly to heaven at the same time. She stood there, shocked, unable to do anything except stare up at Seungcheol as he scrunched his face, snickered, and pinched her cheek, muttering softly...

"Then I guess I'll have to be a devil too.” 


	3. on the way home // wonwoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> // prompt: wherein she notices that quiet boy who sleeps on the bus everyday. //

= i initially posted this on tumblr but i guess i'll post it here for easier access lmao = 

{a/n: unedited bc I feel sick and shitty, but wonwoo’s still cute af and I was bored so idk ight here u go?? I apologize in advance}

 

\--

 

Long, tedious bus rides felt ordinary to her. 

Every morning was the same routine– which meant her begrudgingly waking up an hour earlier than she needed to, simply because she was sadly the first (and furthest) stop from school. Being the first stop consequently meant the shitty feeling of morning dew at its peak– when the sun hadn’t even risen and nothing moved outside except for the empty yellow school bus approaching her usual stop at the intersection. Morning bus rides were boring, and she often found herself too sleepy to stay awake even before she reached the next stop. She’d only wake up last-minute, with a panicked jump, when the bus finally came to a halting stop in front of school.

Bus rides in the afternoon, however, were a completely different story. The trips on the way home bustled with noise; friends chattered about, teenagers played rap on blast speakers, and people would obnoxiously laugh at some joke that a goofy guy sitting in the back row (his name was Soonyoung, she believed?) would crack every now and then.

Yet, arguably the most noticeable difference during these afternoon bus rides was the presence of a quiet black-haired boy seated directly across from her.

He would always take the exact same seat across the aisle, and she’d unknowingly do the same. This soon transitioned into a daily routine: two strangers, separated by a narrow bus aisle, in a comfortable, mutual understanding.

She’s not quite sure _when_ exactly she first noticed him. He was undoubtedly handsome, with a straight nose, narrow eyes, and sharp jawline that would extend every-so-often into a lazy yawn. Everyday, he’d stretch his long legs onto the empty space beside him and rest his head on the window. Then, she’d shyly steal a glance in his direction, only to notice that he’d fallen asleep like that– curled in his seat and clutching his backpack against his chest.

Times like these were the most endearing. She hated to admit that he looked adorable like that– like a little boy(even though he was obviously much taller than her), with his eyes softly closed and mouth slightly parted open. She hated the fact that she would steal glances at a stranger sleeping. She felt plain creepy, wrong and just.. straight-up embarrassed as hell.

Whenever she noticed that his stop was nearing, she would always clear her throat loud enough for his eyes to slowly blink awake. Then he’d hurriedly shift his backpack on his shoulders as the bus paused in his neighborhood.

Right before he’d leave, though, he’d always shoot her a half smile– a slight quirk of his lips– as if thanking her before he coolly glided away down the aisle. It was always like this; everyday, same routine.

One afternoon, however, she plopped down on her seat and realized that he wasn’t in his usual spot. The black-haired boy usually arrived before her, so she was surprised to see that his seat was claimed by long-haired boy, Yoon Jeonghan, who was now snickering quietly at some video he was streaming on his phone. She didn’t know how to go about the situation; she felt as if she had somehow betrayed the black-haired boy by failing to reserve his spot properly.

So when she saw the boy hurriedly hopping onto the bus, she felt terrible when he stopped and turned to look at Jeonghan, facial expression dropping when he realized that someone had stolen his usual seat. Jeonghan, on the other hand, looked oblivious, and simply resumed watching his video with an expectant grin on his face.

Unwilling to bear with the black-haired boy’s disappointment any longer, she cleared her throat. _“Excuse me,”_ she murmured. She cleared her throat once more until he finally realized that she was calling for him. Once he turned towards her with his brows raised in surprise, she murmured again, “would you… uh… like to sit with me?” She usually preferred sitting alone, but she decided to make an exception for today.

He clearly didn’t expect her to say anything of this sort. He nearly splurted and stumbled over his reply, finally deciding to just give up on words altogether and disbelievingly pointing to his face instead. She blinked at him expectantly, and was nearly surprised to hear his low mumble of “sure…”.

She just sort of emptily stared at the seat in front of her, startled by exactly how low his voice was. It made her feel as if something furry was stuck in her stomach and she suddenly wondered if offering him her seat was a good idea in the first place. Then she felt the seat sink down with his weight and suddenly realized oh my god he’s sitting next to me why did I even ask him to sit next to me?? Then she heard him speak (even she knew he usually kept to himself), so she willed her mind to stop racing as the attractive boy seated beside her shyly tried to make conversation.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I um… know your name… but I’m not sure if you’ve heard of mine.” He scratched his cheek. “… I’m Jeon Wonwoo, by the way,” he did one of his half-smiles, “sorry for barging in your seat.”

Then Wonwoo flashed a rare full grin and she had never felt more attacked in her entire life. She had never seen him genuinely smile before and was almost as surprised as when she first heard his voice. Almost. His teeth were white and straight and pearly and she wondered how the hell someone could possibly have such a perfect mouth.

“It’s… it’s okay,” she softly replied after her momentary trance. Then she politely smiled back and shyly turned towards the autumn leaves outside her window, unable to control her racing mind any longer.

The next day, the black-haired boy arrived late and out-of-breath once again. Jeonghan had taken Wonwoo’s usual seat once more, and was now animatedly tapping against his phone screen to what she assumed was a rhythm game of some sort.

In her defense, she did initially make more progress in her attempt of trying to win Wonwoo’s seat back. When she first boarded the bus, she spent a few minutes to muster up her courage and form a plan of attack. Finally, _“Ah._ Excuse me. Jeonghan-ssi?” she timidly called out from across the aisle.

Her voice came out so soft that she was pretty sure she almost couldn’t hear herself speaking. Jeonghan, however, eagerly glanced up from his phone, as if he had the magically ability to know when his name was being called by someone of the female gender. “Yes, what’s up?”

“Uh, well… I just wanted to ask you–”

…and that’s when she realized that Wonwoo had just gotten on the bus and was now making his way to their usual row once again. Something about him made her feel embarrassed all the damn time. Maybe it’s because she was paranoid that he knew she frequently stole glances at him because he looked really cute sleeping. Or maybe it’s because she knew that under that stoic expression was a really… cute… smile and it just made her feel weird, really weird and just… _weird._

In fact, she couldn’t even finish her sentence before she sort of just shriveled away from the aisle altogether and clutched her backpack closer to her chest, as if doing this would somehow solve her pulse dysfunctions. Jeonghan blinked in confusion, simply watching the scene as Wonwoo stopped at their row and glanced between him and the pretty girl sitting across from him.

The girl cleared her throat uncharacteristically loud, immediately gaining Wonwoo’s attention, “um. Wonwoo-ssi, would you like to– uh, I guess– sit with me… again?”

And as Jeonghan watched the two of them awkwardly shift around to squeeze into one seat, stuttering apologies and finally settling next to each other shyly, Jeonghan suddenly realized…

… _Oh._

Once both of them were seated comfortably, Jeonghan bit back a playful smile and leaned forward, purposefully brushing back his hair as he made eye contact with the girl. “Sorry, you were asking me something earlier?” his voice was soft and charming and Wonwoo _usually_ liked Jeonghan because he was nice but in that moment, he decided that did not like Jeonghan one bit.

Her lips parted in surprise, suddenly embarrassed and completely unsure of how to rephrase her question when Wonwoo himself was sitting right beside her. Then she became all-too-aware of Wonwoo’s curious stare, waiting for her reply.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I can just ask you later,” she replied hurriedly.

“Sure… later.” Jeonghan flashed his charming smile once again. As the long-haired boy slowly reclined in his seat, Wonwoo felt surprisingly uneasy. Something about the way Jeonghan phrased his words made it seem like he knew something that Wonwoo didn’t, and as Wonwoo glanced to his left and saw the girl blushing and turning towards the window, he nearly pouted and decided that he did not like this situation. Not one bit.

“So um,” Wonwoo grimaced when his sentence came out too loudly, settling instead for clearing his throat and staring at the gray material of the seat in front of him, “… how,“ he coughed, _”… how are you…?”_ After the stupid question came out he realized had never felt a stronger urge to slap himself in the fac. Times like these were exactly why he chose to stay silent for about 95% of his life.

She nearly jumped at his question, not expecting him to speak so suddenly. “I’m… pretty good. And you?” She resorted to playing with the black straps of her backpack, as neither one of them seemed confident enough to initiate any eye contact whatsoever.

Wonwoo sighed and willed himself to loosen up a bit. “Oh, you know, stressed with school and all. The usual, I guess.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Yeah, I’ve, like, almost missed the bus a few times ‘cause of my English project. Sucks.”

Well, at least now she knows the reason he’s been rushing to the bus last minute.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” she frowned at cocked her head to the side, “so… uh, when’s your project due?”

Okay, so maybe her reason for asking this wasn’t _entirely_ pure; she simply wanted to know when he could start making it to the bus in time to claim his seat again. In her defense, she wasn’t sure if her heart could take another day of sitting next to him. Admiring him from a distance was much better (and far less life-threatening) than having him sit about 5 inches away from her and have their arms press together every time the bus driver made a sharp turn. It was all just too much for her.

He hummed and brought a hand up to his chin, and she could do nothing but mindlessly stare as his slim fingers flitted up his jawline. “I guess before the end of the week? Hopefully less?” he muttered, fingers now traveling back down to his chin again.

And as she hummed casually in response and turned to stare out her window, she suddenly hoped for two things: first, that Wonwoo gets that project done as soon as fucking humanly possible, and second, that her life insurance was sufficient enough to last her through this week.

.

The next day’s bus ride started off much simpler than usual. She decided not to bother Jeonghan regarding Wonwoo’s seat anymore, since she convinced herself that sitting next to him for one week wouldn’t be too bad.

So as she plopped onto her usual place on the 7th row, Jeonghan looked up from his phone to nod at her in recognition and say, “I ship it, by the way,” with no context whatsoever as to what the hell he was talking about.

“You ship it? Ship what?” she asked, only to squeak and shrink back when Wonwoo suddenly sat on the empty spot beside her.

He turned to look at her, handsome yet mildly confused. “What? What ship?”

Jeonghan nearly snorted. “It’s nothing,” he replied, fading away by tapping away at his phone once again. Wonwoo scowled as the bus began moving.

Wonwoo looked so much like a little boy– hugging his backpack tightly with an adorable frown– that she failed to suppress her snickering. He curiously turned to face her. “What,” he said, face completely stoic. At this, her snickers turned into chimes of laughter, making her eyes crinkle and her smile brighten. He grinned in response, admittedly taken aback and also somewhat dazed.

Then after a while of her laughter, he mindlessly murmured, “You look good like that.”

At this, her snickering ceased and her heart jumped instead. “What?”

“You look good like that. Smiling, I mean.” 

She could only repeat dumbly, _“what?”_

“You look, I don’t know… peaceful? Like in the mornings when you’re just… cuddled and dozing off in your seat? It’s sort of cute.”

This time her heart just ceased beating altogether, and she barely choked out another, _“…what?”_

That was when he finally realized that he said everything out loud. “I mean,” he blurted in panic, “I don’t stare at you or anything I just-,” he spluttered, “I just… happen to sit across from you in the mornings too so I mean it’d be weird not to notice but I mean–”

All of his next few sentences completely flew by her head as she struggled to register what he said earlier.

“Oh fuck this is awkward,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m so sorry for… just… putting that out there. I’m actually not used to talking this much in one go so I might be saying really stupid–”

Then she just stayed quiet for a while, before mumbling a quiet response of, “you look good like that too.”

“I-I mean–” he paused mid-rant, “wait… _what?”_

“You, um… you look good like that too,“ she cleared her throat, "your smile is just… really nice. But I guess– not being creepy because I swear I don’t stare but– I admit you look really good when you’re… dozing off in your seat, too…?”

He stared at her in disbelief, an uncharacteristic warmth crawling up his neck as he cleared his throat. They both blinked at each other for a few seconds, before they both finally turned away and stared dazedly at thin air.

As she suppressed her growing smile once again, she finally decided that she wouldn’t mind paying more life insurance bills if her days were more like this.

.

“Hey Wonwoo…”

“Yes?”

“Wasn’t your English project due… like, a week ago?” she asked him curiously. He hummed in response. "Then,” she pursed her lips, “why do you still get on the bus so late all the time?”

“Well,” he began, as if he was about to launch into some elaborate explanation, “I found out that the cafeteria stills sell burgers after school, so I mean… I have to set my priorities straight, you know?”

Even after a week past his project’s due date, Wonwoo had somehow always made it to the bus late.

Everyday, he would provide some spurious excuse that would somehow be forgotten amidst the long conversations they’d have during the trip home. They’d talk about everything and everything, and sometimes she would notice how often Wonwoo smiled nowadays.

Other times, however, they wouldn’t have conversations at all; they’d unknowingly fall asleep throughout the whole ride home and wake up nestled against each other– in which case they would both inwardly panic and play dead until Jeonghan would nudge them both awake.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, was essentially their savior; he woke them up, and he was the main reason they sat together. However, he also knew that Wonwoo’s stalling tactics needed boundaries.

So, one day, Wonwoo coolly made his way towards the 7th row of the bus – late, as usual– happily carrying a freshly wrapped burger, which was stuffed in his backpack.

Once she saw him approaching, she greeted him a bright "sup”, accompanied with a foreign sense of nervousness that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Then, he glanced to the left and noticed that the seat across from hers – his _“usual” seat_ – was now vacant once again. At this, his expression dropped.

“So… um…,” he scratched the back of his neck, “where’s Jeonghan?”

“Well, he said one of his friends was giving him a ride home today,” she replied, fiddling with the keychains hanging on her backpack.

Wonwoo froze. He supposed that it shouldn’t have been a big deal, but the fact that Jeonghan wasn’t there meant that he didn’t have… an excuse to sit with her.

Of course, he could just sit with her right then. Nothing was stopping him. But at the same time, something about that decision made his heart pound and palms sweat; it was almost like a confession, after all. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if she **_liked_** sitting with him or not, and just that thought urged him to take a step towards the empty seat.

 _But then again..._ he really enjoyed being around her, and she wouldn’t have spent so long sitting with him if she completely hated his company, right? In fact, what did that even have to do with bus seats? He was just overanalyzing things and being stupid and–

“Hey,” she said, voice urging him out of his reverie. Then he felt a tug on his hand and realized that she was holding it and she was so warm and small and he suddenly suppressed the urge to swallow the lump in his throat. 

When Wonwoo looked down at her with a dazed grin, he suddenly realized that she was staring at him with a completely serious expression.

“You can’t sit there,” she commanded firmly. “That’s Jeonghan’s seat.”

At this, his smile immediately fell. He blinked at her and tried to mask his hurt expression. 

_“…What?”_ he asked softly.

She pointed at the space across from her. “That’s Jeonghan’s seat.”

After she realized how offended and small he looked right then, she nervously cleared her throat and tugged on his fingertips.

“And… um… this.” She pursed her lips, tugged his hand once more, then patted the space beside her, scooching over to shyly pull him down onto the uncomfortable grey material.

“Well…” He plopped down with an astonished expression as both of their heartbeats staccatoed in their ears. “…this is seat is yours,” she murmured.

And from that point, she decided, long bus rides definitely weren’t as tedious as they used to be.


	4. have a ball-droppin' good time // dk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> // prompt: "yeah i may be drunk but there's no way i went into the wrong apartment" //

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wassup guys I posted this last new years on tumblr and it's kinda late and irrelevant now but yolo I wanted to post it on aff :^)

_{a/n: wrote this because I’ve been wanting to post another fic and Seokmin is just a lil bol o sunshine and I couldn’t resist + it’s new years and I got me a bomb ass prompt. enjoy}_

_unedited + this is word vomit i'm sorry_

– 

 

 **“C** an I get one screaming orgasm, please? **”**

The words leave her lips louder than she expected them to, but the bartender strains his ears to hear her order over the harsh thump of the music anyway, later giving her a curt nod and rummaging around to find the liquor needed for her request.

She hiccups and rests a hip against one of the stools, watching as most of her friends were tipsily moving about on the dancefloor ahead. Strobelights blared amidst the sleek black interior of the club, where countless college students swayed about, seeking solace from a prior semester full of stress in their glasses full of beer and vodka. Towards the side lay the more private booths, where smaller groups of classmates and coworkers noisily gather in front of a television, following the annual ritual of waiting for the Times Square Ball to drop and fireworks to explode in the distance.

New Year’s Eve has always been a particular favorite of hers. She loved the noise and the bustle of people around her,and something about the day and moment made her head feel light and her insides fuzzy. Was it additionally due to the fact that she downed about three shots and a few bottles of other types of liquor prior? Maybe… but she’s fine… totally not tipsy…

She bites down another lump in her throat, then nearly stumbles when she notices that one of her friends, Jun, settles next to her equally intoxicated self and clumsily mumbles an order to the bartender, who then nods and resumes mixing orders for the people hastily crowding around the bar, craving any form of alcohol they could get.

“Damn—you’re,” Jun starts, but pauses a bit to recollect his thoughts, “you’re like… smashed.”

“No I’m not!” she objects, gesturing towards her own face to prove she was… sober. “I’m completely fine.”

Jun eyes her suspiciously, but lets the the subject die on his tongue when a long-haired bombshell suddenly passes by and shoots him a sultry look. He frantically turns back towards his friend and says, “hey… I think you’re gonna have to maybe, like, find your own ride own tonight.”

“God, Jun. You promised to drive me home. Don’t let your hormones get in the way of our friendship, you traitor,” she grumbles.

Although she complains, she is an understanding friend and an even better wingman. Well, sometimes.

After she throws a bit of a tantrum due to the alcohol running in her system, he promises to pay for all her drinks that night, as well as her share for a fairly expensive dinner they were supposed to have with their group of friends two weeks from then, and suddenly all is well.

Jun’s parents were major shareholders in China, which meant that he could easily handle paying for bills and things of that sort. On the other hand, she… well, she made as much as her part-time job could let her. Her parents insisted they handle her college tuition, however, she wanted to show her gratitude by insisting to pay for her own housing. Although her apartment was cheap and decent, it did lay a huge dent in her monthly paycheck.

“Or if you want,” Jun offers, “I can set you up with Seokbin. Oh fuck, _wait.._. what was his name?” he grimaces and runs a hand over his face, “Seokmin—no wait, Seokwoo?? Whatever. Seok my ass. Apartment guy?”

“Jun,” she deadpans, but her ears slowly glaze with a blush anyway, “don’t ruin his purity with your antics. Don’t even… think about it.”

Soon enough, Jun grumbles in defeat and mumbles something about her bill to the bartender, who then swipes his shiny, golden credit card and slides forward a shot glass filled with some sort of murky liquid, colored rich dark brown with a cream white layer settled on top. She wordlessly blinks at him then at the shot glass, taking a few minutes too long to realize that she ordered something before Jun and the drink was meant for _her_.

“Huh,” she chirps, “that’s mine.”

“Yeah,” Jun quips, trying to blink the drunken glaze in his eyes away to no avail, “I didn’t… didn’t order… an espresso.”

“That,” she forces mind to remember what the hell the drink was called, “that’s not… it’s called… something…,” another blank, **“not—** not espresso. I think.”

What both of them failed to realize was that they were _maybe_ a little bit past _smashed,_ and were in a bar that absolutely did _not_ serve coffee, but rather hard liquor and fruity cocktails and different substances of the sort. She vaguely remembers the name of the drink she holds in her hand, and it’s on the tip of her tongue, something vague, something like—

“An innuendo,” she blurts in a voice too loud for her own good, _“this drink is…_ an innuendo.”

“Nice,” Jun says.

 

—-

 

After a few more drinks and a blurry taxi ride home, she is quite positive that she is completely, and utterly, shit-faced.

Things never end up going well when there is too much alcohol running through her system. Although her friends claim that her drunken self makes her _all-the-more_ charming, she knows that they tease about her heightened extrovertedness– or, of a more direct way to phrase it, her lack of a filter. Her personality whilst sober, she thinks, is already bad enough. Now she knows to go home and keep herself contained from offending or possibly sexually harassing anyone while intoxicated.

It isn’t even New Year’s yet. She had convinced others that she wanted to go home before the clock struck twelve in order to avoid being kissed by some random stranger who wanted to follow some stupid tradition. In reality, she is just _hella_ embarrassed that she is hammered way too early for her own good, and is now depressedly dragging her feet to her own apartment in order to simmer in her own shame.

She vaguely remembers ordering a few more shots of that one drink—the innuendo thing—though this wrenches a wrong feeling in her gut because she was quite positive it was called something else.

And this whole ordeal frustrates her. She took more than what she could handle, and now she'd have to watch the countdown alone. Her head feels blurry but throbs at the same time, and she stumbles up the steps to her apartment door desperately trying to remember the name of the cursed drink that made her this way.

Her eyes are droopy and half-closed as she turns her doorknob and stumbles inside the dark living room, breathing an exasperated sigh and just wanting the pounding and frustration in her head to go away – to just close her eyes and rest for a little bit…

She drops her purse onto the wooden floor, then her shoes and socks, then her slips her bra and ponytail off, and this momentarily satisfies the terrible feeling in her chest. More relief comes when she blindly stumbles to her left and dodges the coffee table she usually trips over, and lands onto the plush couch beside her.

However, the relief leaves as fast as it appears when she realizes that her plush couches were not as soft as she expected. She grumbles a bit yet keeps her eyes closed anyways, letting herself fall asleep… letting the fuzz in her head slowly ebb away…

But then the lights turn on and although her are shut tight, they are open now and she is momentarily blinded.

A rush of adrenaline rushes through her despite the apparent intoxication. Her roommates told her they were going to be gone all night. She sits upright and folds herself into her knit sweater, eyes alert, roaming and focusing on a figure a few steps ahead of her until—

 ** _“Seokmin?”_** she croaks.

And indeed, her neighbor stares back at her, nearly dropping his glass of water when he shuffles backwards.

Sure enough, the ashy-haired male stands there in all his glory. She was almost certain that this was a dream, or an illusion of some sort, because there was no way the guy she had been crushing on these past few months would simply walk into her apartment. _No_ fucking way.

He was tall, with a lean body, broad shoulders, and a smile so bright that she almost has to squint every time he flashes it her way. It was oddly charming, and never failed to churn her stomach as if his smile had somehow grown into a tangible thing and gained arms and suddenly punched her in the gut. It was all too much, really.

She remembers when she first moved into her apartment, struggling with countless boxes until one of them was lifted from the ground and instead replaced with Seokmin’s signature smile and a great pair of arms to match. Not that she checked him out, or anything. She just observed – observed the way he could laugh about everything and how his eyes would crinkle every time she fumbled with the box she was holding. And when he mentioned the fact that he lived in the apartment next to hers, she nearly kneeled down and thanked the good Lord up above for his kindness.

She had never met a more genuine stranger in her life. Every time they stumbled upon each other in the hallway or elevator, he’d happily ask about her classes with a huge grin on his face, and she’d mumble an incoherent response because she’d be too distracted with him and how he seemed to be brimming with sunshine all the time.

Sometimes she’d see him around campus, and even then he’s as smiley and energetic as always. She realizes that time or setting has no effect on Seokmin; he’ll always help others as happily as he can, whether it be in the grocery store down the road, or even in a fucking monsoon in the middle of June.

Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if the monsoon would die away as soon as he flashed the world those perfect teeth of his. She _also_ wouldn’t be surprised if harps suddenly started playing in the distance, and the clouds would open up and angels would soar down, singing–

“Uh,” Seokmin stutters, eyebrows curving as a confused grin materializes on his face.

She stumbles to her feet and stammers in front of him, still feeling hazy from the avid partying she’s done for hours prior. “Seokmin! What… are you—doing—”  
  
She usually curls away in embarrassment at any given moment he appears, but for some reason, the adrenaline mixed with the alcohol has broke through her inhibitions; now, everything feels almost dreamlike and very much unreal to her.

However, she also realizes that he is sick, because his usually blinding smile has dimmed down a bit, and there are obvious bags under his eyes, as well as a red nose that crinkles every now and then when he inhales. It’s really unfair, she thinks, because while normal people should look terrible and shaggy in this state, his disheveled hair just makes him look all the more charming.

For some reason, it looks as if something registers in Seokmin’s brain, and he smiles and chokes down a chime of laughter. He settles for a large grin on his face as he asks, in a voice much more nasally than usual—

“So I guess you've been, uh— _been enjoying New Year’s?”_  
  
If the alcohol hadn’t made her red in the face already, she would have probably blushed. But she regards these circumstances piece by piece, and so far, the most important thing to her was that _Seokmin was sick._ And she has _no_ clue how to go about the situation. So instead, she mumbles a sincere, and somewhat confused—

“Yes. Yeah. I mean, yeah I have.”

“I see,” Seokmin’s eyes twinkle in amusement as he sets his water on the countertop beside him, settling a hip there and crossing his arms instead. “I wish I could’ve enjoyed New Years too. But as you can tell, I have a really bad cold,” he laughs, rasping out a cough not too long after. “Plus, I would’ve been low on budget anyways, so I thought it would be best if I stayed home.”

“Oh,” she dramatically nods in understanding, bobbing her head a few times while mindlessly muttering, “I could. Um. Take care of you… or something?”  
  
Seokmin stutters a bit under his breath, but recovers by flashing a toothy grin, “No, really, I’m okay! I should be the one taking care of you, you know.”

A minute of silence passes.

“Wait..." she mutters, confused, _"why?”_ she asks, and her mind jumbles a bit– as if she has forgotten everything that has happened tonight.

“Um,” he rasps, not knowing how to break the fact that she is _hella drunk,_ and is in need of assistance as soon as possible.

But the topic is forgotten anyway, because she glances down to check her watch, blinking at the thing for a few seconds because the numbers seem to sway and suddenly get very difficult to read–

“Still have around 15 minutes ‘til midnight,” he says.

She looks up and blinks at him too. “Oh. Thank you.”

Then she rubs her eyes and mumbles, “I’m glad I’m home before midnight actually. Then I wouldn’t be forced to… make out with a stranger, or something. Like when the clock strikes twelve, you know?”

He nods his head in understanding, but she continues. “Yeah,” she yawns, “at least in our apartment building I can make out with someone I actually know.”

Seokmin chokes as he takes a brief sip of water from his glass, then recovers after a few hasty swipes from his sleeve and shakily setting his cup down on the countertop once more.

For some reason, she feels the urge to keep talking, even though a little voice in the back of her mind instructs her not to. “Hey, you know… I _could_ have…,” she says, “stayed home and hung out with you, or something. I wish you had company on New Years. Or maybe next time I can treat you to something because you missed out on tonight. I don’t know, like, if you wanted—but I mean… yeah…”   
  
She’s not so sure why she offers this, because she is also struggling in the financial department and barely made it through the night if Jun had not worked his almighty magic wallet and paid for her bad decisions.

But at this, Seokmin finally laughs, and the sound is so rich in her ears that she blinks and wobbles a bit to keep upright.

 _“You asking me out?”_ he smiles, and something about the tone is different, playful. It is much different from his usual self who emits sunlight and rainbows, because now his smile is softer, and he is definitely teasing her.

For some reason she takes a while to process this, and she freezes– freezes because the only time he would ever say that sentence would be in her imagination. Then again, the only time she would gain the courage to hold conversation, much less _ask him out,_ would be in her imagination as well. And only now does she realize the magnitude of what she just said, so this momentarily hits her like a sack of bricks.

“Wha—” she blubbers, stumbling forward. Seokmin’s eyes widen and he almost shuffles forward as well, arms stretched open to catch her.

But she doesn’t fall. Instead, she quickly balances herself and sticks her palms in front of her, gesturing him not to come any closer. He freezes.

 _“That,”_ she chokes, “is not what I– meant. Asking… _out_ … I’m—”

Seokmin remains wide-eyed, lips parted and eyebrows scrunched in worry. “It’s—it’s okay,” he finally draws back his outstretched arms and scratches the back of his neck instead. “I was just, uh, teasing you.”

“Oh,” she says, then nods her head as if _she_ wasn’t the one who makes a big deal out of the whole situation in the first place, “I see…”

She feels instant regret– regret because she should’ve let her offer linger in the air, and because she realizes that the only time she ever really gained the courage to do things is when she is drunk. So she sulks, and her shoulders hunch a bit because feels trapped in her own stupidity.

After a few minutes of stale silence, Seokmin, now resting his hip on the counter once again, still wears that signature grin when he finally gains the courage to say—

  
 _“Uh,_ sorry for bringing this up all of a sudden, but.. you know that… you’re sort of… in my apartment, right?”  
  
She furrows her eyebrows, then takes a few moments to finally look around, because there’s no way…

But yes, it seems that Seokmin is right, because although the overall layout of their suites are nearly identical... her plush couch has transformed into a dark leather, and her white coffee table is gone, and the TV is mounted on a different wall.

And now that she thinks about it, she doesn’t ever remember having to fumble with her keys on the way in, but she _definitely_ remembers locking her own apartment when she left that evening—

 _“Huh,”_ she says.

Then she suddenly feels much more sober, and is stumbling forward once again, mumbling apologies and clinging onto Seokmin because of the embarrassment and because of her _stupidity_ and because she thought that she was in her own apartment all along–

And Seokmin tries telling her it’s okay, but for some reason his bright smile seems much more embarrassed now, because he’s really not used to being in such a close proximity to her and it really feels as comforting as he’s imagined…

Then after a few minutes of fumbling, she glances backwards and sees that her own bra and other belongings are discarded on the wooden floor– _his_ wooden floor– so she makes an inhuman noise and hastily covers Seokmin’s eyes with her hands because he is too pure, too innocent to see things like this.

“I’m—I’m _**sorry,”**_ she croaks, and she’s much closer to Seokmin now, hands placed softly over his eyes as if she sought to protect his innocence with everything she had.

But then again, he was a college student. He has most probably experienced many not—so—innocent encounters during his years on campus, but that somehow doesn’t make sense to her. It was as if his big smile and squinted eyes would completely blind her and make her feel the urge to protect him from everything scary or evil in this world, because _goddamn_ he was cute.

Seokmin holds her wrists and moves them a bit, just so he could see past her fingertips. Then he brightly laughs and mutters, “it’s okay. It’s actually sort of endearing to see you like this.”

His grin slowly morphs into a sheepish smile. “I just– you’ve always been really shy, so this whole situation just… sort of threw me off a bit. I’m sort of embarrassed, actually.”

 _“No!”_ she says a bit too loudly. “No, _don’t—_ don’t feel embarrassed. I should be the one feeling embarrassed. I’ve ruined your peaceful night,” she takes a panicked glance at her bra, still lying on the floor, “…and your, uh, purity.”  
  
Seokmin’s head bobs backwards, lips pursed in an amused half-smile. _“My purity?”_

“Yeah!”” she exclaims, suddenly feeling very emotional about the given topic. “You’re a person that brightens anything they come across with everything good in the world,” she gushes, “I’m really sorry for leaving… my bra… on your floor. I’ve tainted you… but I had no choice– gotta let the boys free, you know.”

  
It’s weird how she could be embarrassed at one moment, then suddenly blurt some sort of uncomfortable phrase at the next. It’s not like she realized—but _he_ did. He really should find this whole situation amusing, and to some degree he genuinely does.

But there are some moments where he can’t control the blood that rushes up to his ears from embarrassment, because he is sober and she stumbled into his apartment _and_ is currently not wearing a bra, and they are _alone_ because his roommates, Jeonghan and Vernon, had somehow abandoned his own sick self for the night like the good friends they were (and also because Seokmin had convinced them not to ruin their plans simply because of his cold).

Although he loves to be around people and is naturally extroverted, he also knows his limits with partying. It sort of saddens him how he had to catch a cold on one of the most memorable nights of the year, so he convinces his friends to go have fun without him, then locks himself in his room with a runny nose and a headache.

So when he walks out of his room to find something to eat, he does not expect to find the pretty girl that lives next to him laying on his couch, looking mildly intoxicated but cute as always.

When she opens her mouth, however, he discovers that she is a _little_ bit more than “mildly intoxicated”. And this cannot mean something good, because Seokmin is lightheaded and sick and _although_ he seems fine on the surface, the only thing really keeping him upright at the moment was the fact that the kitchen counter beside him is handling most of his weight.

But he wants to take care of her and get her home safely. He knows he’s obligated to hold this responsibility, especially because he seems to be the most stable of the two in this given situation.

She seems to think the opposite.

 _“My god!”_ she exclaims, “and you’re sick too! I swear I won’t ruin your purity any more than I already have, so just go to your room– and I’ll,” she blinks, pausing a bit because a new wave of her headache suddenly hit her with full force, “…make my way back to my apartment. Then I can make you some soup and get you something warm to drink…”

Just the thought of her having to use the stove or handle knives whilst drunk was enough to nearly give Seokmin a heart attack. “No!” he rasps. _**“Don’t—”**_

But she’s already taking a number of unsteady steps towards the door, and Seokmin can only weakly cry out because his throat is killing him, so instead he pushes off from the counter and wobbles toward her, finally setting a hand on her shoulder because if she gets anywhere near a fire he is almost sure the entire building is going to burn down.

She jumps and whips her head around to look at him, and she really shouldn’t have, because the quick motion makes her vision blur for a second and—

 _ **“Fuck,”**_ she rasps.

Her choice of vocabulary was enough to give her a second wave of headache, because she gasps and leans forward to cover Seokmin’s ears once more because she tainted him again–

And suddenly they’re falling, because Seokmin is currently in no state to hold another person and support both of their weights and—

They finally land with a dull _thud_ on the wooden floor.

Both of them groan from the impact, even though Seokmin took most of the fall and is now lying limply underneath her. He is completely certain that his back is going to be sore tomorrow.

Then they pathetically lie there for a while, because neither one has the strength to do anything, much less move.

She finally makes a sound—which comes out as somewhat of a garbled noise. _**“I’m sorry,”**_ she says, “for everything, really.”

Then she realizes that all her weight is settled on him, so she wriggles and blurts a panicked-

 _“Oh my god,_ are you _okay?”_

Seokmin sets a hand on her back, patting it a few times because really doesn’t have the strength to do anything else at the moment. She stills in tension and he lets out a toothy smile, even though his back is hurting and his headache is doing nothing to help.

“It’s alright– I’m fine. And don’t worry, I’m really happy with the fact you’re trying to take care of me,” he laughs, “It’s really nice.”

 _“Nice?_ More like anything but,” she sulks, relaxing a bit. “I’m so sorry. This whole thing is just so messed up. I just drank too much of those innuendo things– ugh!” She sucks in a sharp breath when another curse nearly comes flying out of her mouth, _“God,_ what were they called?”

She rolls from his chest to the spot beside him, where her head lays on one of his outstretched arms and they both just stare at the ceiling, because both of them really feel too exhausted to do anything more. Just standing up felt like an impossible task, and everything just seemed too hazy at that moment… 

_**“Screaming orgasm!”**_ she all but shouts.

Seokmin nearly has another heart attack from the volume of her voice. He glances down nervously and finds that she is already beaming at him, looking as if she had just won a gold medal at the Olympics.

Seokmin swallows. Then his cold becomes very apparent when he releases a garbled, _**“what?”,**_ and nearly chokes in the process.

She releases a content sigh and stares up at the ceiling once again. Seokmin continues to stare at her, eyebrows ticking in confusion a few more times.

“Sorry,” she laughs, “I just remembered that that was the name of the drink I ordered. You know, the one that made me… the way I am… right now.”

Seokmin lets out a stuttered, disbelieving breath. She acts up when he says the smallest things– but then here she is, shouting inappropriate phrases as if it’s no big deal to just say them out of the blue. Seokmin blinks at her for a while longer, mouth agape because she _really_ is something else, and it is oddly… endearing.  
  


On the other hand, the silence gives her time to think. Then she reflects on everything she’s done tonight”—from breaking into his house, and ruining his innocence, and toppling him over and hurting him _while he was sick..._

And now she feels like pure, utter shit.

Her head is thumping, and she tries to move but her whole body just feels too heavy– and suddenly this frustrates her because now she feels useless and petty and questions _why the hell_ she can’t do anything right.

“Hey,” she mutters after a pause of silence, “again, I’m really sorry… about everything.” And even though these things are said sincerely, she continues to stare at the ceiling because she somehow doesn’t have the courage to look him in the eye. “I’ve done nothing but mess your night up… and I feel _terrible_ for it.”

Then she laughs, but there’s somewhat of a lilt to it– something inexplicably sad, “I’m like, I don’t know… rain, or something,”she stumbles with her words because her mouth feels dry all of a sudden, “I just ruin your sunshine and making things muddy and gross and nasty.” Then she releases another awkward laugh, because she is ashamed and tired and her whole body seems to be dragging her down…

“I’m sorry, Seokmin,” she says.

But what she does not notice is the fact that he has been looking at her this whole time, and his eyes are still gleaming with their usual sparkle, if not brighter, when he glances down at her.

She doesn’t notice the small smile that graces his face when she says his name, or the fact that his smile spreads widely and he has to suppress himself from shouting in glee when she unconsciously moves her head closer to his chest, because she’s blinded by the fact that everything seems to be warmer around him…

And after a moment of silence, she’s closing her eyes, and she forgets about where she is and why she’s there, because she’s almost asleep, and nearly misses it when Seokmin chimes, and this time he makes sure he is heard–

“I… like the rain,” he says, somewhat softly. “It’s comforting.”

Her mouth parts in surprise.

"And about that date you offered," there goes another one of his mega-watt grins, "I'd like that," Seokmin says. "I'd _really,_ really like that."

Then her heart does an inexplicable little stutter—

because although she knows that a massive hangover will greet her in the morning, she believes there is no better way to start the year.

 

–

 

_Bonus:_

The next morning, Hansol and Jeonghan walk into the apartment, glance down at the two people who are curled together on the floor, then the males exchange a knowing look– and this time, they don’t forget to lock the door behind them when they leave.

**jk lmao I hope u guys liked it bc I’m sure as hell confused as to whether I’m satisfied with this or not?? idk happy new years fam <33 thanks for reading**

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked it even if it most likely sucked lmao im out


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